


Shadowed Steps

by Blinkdog



Series: Shadowed Steps [1]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Friends, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Graphic Description, Heavy Angst, M/M, Multi, Non-Canon Relationship, Non-Canonical Character Death, Other, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Slow Burn, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-02-10 01:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18649744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blinkdog/pseuds/Blinkdog
Summary: A Bhaalspawn alt-char origin originating from Durmista, belonging to a pack of unique Lythari harboured by a split sect of Wild Elves. From childhood, to young adulthood, to the onset and finale of their quest, follow Kahlain "Twoshadow" in her canon-divergent story through the Forgotten Realms.





	1. Ch. 1 The Hand Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kahlain is handed to Gorion, known as The Outsider, having led a sheltered life as a refugee under the guardianship of Aulliona, the Rebel Queen of Durmista.

**Ch. 1 - T h e H a n d O f f**

**[Ctrl Click + Play][C h a p t e r  O n e  S o n g](https://open.spotify.com/user/9sjhm1uj9ychyyjc95ie4o9jv/playlist/3nPLLvB3hQQLPextjkGQbi?si=cEP9BxwrTlKoJL12jOrJiw) **

[ **** ](https://open.spotify.com/track/5jrpguZKfO4W2FKU0OSjIx?context=spotify%3Auser%3A9sjhm1uj9ychyyjc95ie4o9jv%3Aplaylist%3A0fIX7D6lIjLCg25WMqeno0&si=7B771uqPRGORfVNMyCXTsw)

* * *

 

     “It’s been decided.”

     The hush that had fallen over the council and collected people was like a blanket, smothering the otherwise bright, clear sky. Stood in the midst of a semi-circle on a platform above the gathered, a tall, willowy, green-skinned elf stood, eyes dark and sad. Her brows knit together slightly, the only mar on her nearly ageless face.

     Kahlain stood, small hands clenched tightly together at her waist, head bowed. Her eyes traced the ground, wind tugging small wisps of dark hair around her face. The crowd had made a wide berth around her. The sound of footsteps came up from behind; she did not look. It was the Outsider. A soft, mature voice spoke as the footsteps came to rest.

     “You have done the right thing for your clan, Aulliona, council,” he nodded at each in turn before continuing, “the threat that rests above the heads of your secluded safe-harbour, as well as the Realms, is in a delicate balance. It is a balance fracturing as we speak. Forces move—though I understand your hesitance--refusal,” he added quickly, a small hint of disappointment in his voice, “to engage with what is to come, I thank you for the chance to save this girl. It will be a long road. Fear not for her remembering your people; she will have the best collection of lore on The People that Faerun has to offer. I will raise her as one of my own, while still trying to pass on the ways of your culture as best as I am able.” Kahlain looked up now, taking in the sight of the man, the Outsider, who had sought her out. He had dark silver hair, a scruffy goatee, and a modest tunic and robe of grey. His eyes were deep, sorrowful perhaps, but sharp and piercing brown. They strayed to her own, and she saw lines ripple on his forehead.

     Aulliona, revered leader of the split sect of Durmista, tapped her staff on the ground. “We have loved this child regardless.” Aulliona tightened her knuckles, her face paling. “But I do not disagree with you, Human. The weight of carrying her, not only by her condition, but her… heritage… has brought my people nothing but ill fortunes. Crows flock to the forest, watching. Animals flee, and there is a hunger in the earth.” The council behind her murmured in agreement. Only a few in the crowd shifted uneasily, a handful shooting glares at Aulliona, who took notice and bowed her head.

     “I apologize to our distinguished Ly’Tel’Quessir brethren. I hold nothing against your people, and have been happy to welcome you into our midst, the last standing rebellion of the Sylvan. However… the prospect of a Ly’Tel’Quessir bearing your marked, unique blood and being… being what she is, it gives her a power I fear more than any beast stalking the woods around us.” Aulliona cleared her throat. “Your abilities that have branded you outcasts to your own people have now been exposed to a dark seed. The idea of what could happen is… unspeakable.”

     A faint hiss of whispers passed between the smaller elves, Kahlain’s people, but Aulliona dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “I do not see you as monsters, as you well know. Your powers are a gift from gods—you remain silvershadows. You are smiled upon here.”

     One of the elves walked to the forefront of the gathered crowd—an androgynous elf of small stature, olive skin, and braided, black hair. They stood for a moment, gathering their thoughts as a storminess clouded their face. “Aulliona. I am Reth’bennahar, the packmaster of the Ly’Tel’Quessir you graciously took in. I have words for you, and for all the people here. Including the Human.” They looked around, eyes resting on each that met their own dark, glittering stare. “We may be different than our brethren, and it is true, we’ve power that outmatches most of any lycanthrope, Ly’Tel’Quessir or otherwise. But what you now assume to do is to give away a girl, a child, who will be shaped into a weapon by any who get their hands upon her. Her birthmother may not live, but we, we, are her family.” They pounded their chest. “This girl will not be an instrument for the harpers to play their tune upon.”

     The Outsider sighed deeply through his nose, but maintained his composure.

     “Those who harp wish nothing but for the child to be guided, safely, through their heritage.” His answer came careful, each word slow and gentle.

     Reth’bennahar turned on heel, almost snarling. “Human, you cannot teach her how to be an elf, let alone a lythari! The sacred Silvershadows! You speak ignorance for one of your age and standing. We, and we alone, can teach her how to tame her inner beast, whether it be wolf or… other.”

      “I hear your argument, revered Reth’bennahar. However… what she will—could—be is something beyond even a clan of such ferocity and dedication. It is admirable you raised her, that you stood by her knowing the crimes of her mother, but I must… I must insist. She is to come with me, to a stronghold on the Sword Coast. A place where she will be hidden from those who would seek to exploit her… even those who harp, packmaster.”

     The lythari jutted their head up, ears flattening against their head, but their jaw clenched and they passed a quick glance to their people. Aulliona bowed her head, and spoke once more. “Reth’bennahar. I hear your sorrow. I echo it in return. Your people are valuable to us, and I do not wish to upset a balance between our alliance. However… the child must go. And go with someone who has the connections that we, wanderers, cannot have. She will be safe in the North. She will grow up reading of our stories. Perhaps one day… one day she might return. But give her the chance to learn of herself, to harness herself, by those who predicted the curse long before. They possess knowledge we do not. They possess the means we have not. They are her only hope of survival, mellonamin. I trust this human, Gorion, from many seasons far gone, and it has remained true, and in good faith.”

     The lythari finally gave in, shoulders sloping down, as if a weight had suddenly crushed them.

     “Aulliona, I acknowledge your authority over the matter. She will… she may leave with him. You have the pack’s blessing. And you, Kahlain, little moon…” their eyes were brighter now, perhaps wet, “I have raised you with the aid of my sisters as best I could. You have grown, but you are but a child still. I hope… I hope that you will receive the guidance you need.” Kahlain’s tears streamed down her cheek as she nodded hesitantly. “I will pass on this advice if you are to live within society, and Human, you remind her should she forget—do not take the form of a wolf in the presence of society. You will be hunted, you will be prized, and you will be killed… or worse. Dark visions affirm this. No matter how hard the call, remain as your second self, and remember that your true self is always with you, a shadow ever at your heels.” Reth’bennahar walked forward slowly, and placed a rough hand on her head. “You will always be of our blood foremost, little moon.”

     Kahlain tried to grab for their hand, whimpering, but the packmaster turned their head, snatching the hand away, walking slowly back to their place without a second glance.

     Gorion placed a gentler hand on her shoulder, and with a sudden intense shiver, the world began to slow, and she felt, more than heard, the words ‘sleep’ echo in her head, pounding against her skull… and then at last, before the enclosing black had taken her, a louder word.

     “Forget.”

* * *

 

Ly'Tel'Quessir - Lythari, also known as Silvershadows (Good-aligned naturally lycanthropic elves)

Tel'Quessir - Elves

Mellonamin - "My friend"

Reth'bennahar - best translated as "The Feast wed to the South", a name given through trial; she brought her people to more bountiful lands in the south, and settled there. It is more of a title than a true name.

Aulliona - best translated as "Go to Sing and Give", a name implying one who has gifts to share with her people. It is a life-path related name, a purpose.

Kahlain - best translated as "Line to the Place of our Home"; Kahmár was the small territory claimed by the Ly'Tel'Quessir in the Borderforest. Kahlain implies a link to their home, for good or ill. It is not her true name.

 


	2. Ch. 2 The Missing Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kahlain and Gorion's rough start into the long journey away from Durmista. Gorion shields her from her true past, telling her fanciful tales of her 'parents', and Kahlain wonders on the nature of her people.

** Ch. 2 – T h e M i s s i n g P i e c e s **

**[Ctrl Click + Press Play][C h a p t e r  T w o  S o n g](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0iMAGsk43whXV8CtTTcBhH) **

[ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6zcP5A5Xv6bvCUpwXrswKa?si=T8nUxgCWS06GTGJZ8PkjBg)

* * *

 

     The carriage plodded underneath heavy boughs, leaves whispering softly. Kahlain’s eyes fluttered open, and she inhaled sharply, sitting up from the small nest of heavy blankets.  
  
     Gorion looked at her between templed fingers, hunched over, broken free from whatever thoughts plagued him.

     “What bothers you child?” he asked, straightening his robes and smoothing back his long tangle of curly hair.

     “I… I was dreaming,” she replied slowly in common. Her accent was still heavy, and the man driving the cart looked back over his shoulder, eyebrows quirked upward.

     Gorion shot the man a dark look, but settled his eyes back on hers quickly. “What did you see?” The concern was barely noticeable, but she felt it all the same.

     “I saw… there were shadows moving. I couldn’t… They moved too fast for me to see. They were always… behind me.” Kahlain scratched at her unwashed hair beneath the heavy hood Gorion insisted she wear.

     “Dreams have a way of trying to tell us something, and play on our fears or stress.” With a forced, crinkled smile that did not quite meet his eyes, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. The weight was slight.  
  
     “I thought awl elves ‘ad them other sleepin, the funny fing. Rev… Reverie, was it?” The driver was looking back over his shoulder again, curious eyes trying to peer under Kahlain’s hood.

     “I paid you to drive, not ask questions, young man,” Gorion said irritably. The man quickly snapped his head forward, clearing his throat. “Din’t mean nothin’ by it.”

     Sighing, Gorion rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Drive on young man. You’ve done no harm. I’ll put in extra coin if you pay more attention to the road.”  
     Eagerly the man’s head nodded, looking forward with more enthusiasm. “Aye, sir!”

     After a few minutes dragged past, Kahlain’s two toned eyes caught and pleaded with Gorion silently. “What’s a reverie?”

      Gorion rested his head on a propped arm, a sadness shadowing his features. “It is what elves practice, rather than sleep. Mind you, they can sleep as well—” Kahlain sensed a trepidancy in Gorion’s manner. Gorion studied her face, and the words that came next were carefully selected. “Not all elves reverie, child. Worry not. If you sleep, you sleep.”

     “How would I reverie?” she asked hopefully, a curiousity blooming in her chest. She felt as if something were bubbling under the surface of her mind, a confusion muddled with a yearning she could not place.  
  
     “That… that is something an Elf would have to teach you, my girl.” A thin sigh drew through his angled nose. "Humans could not teach you something inherent to Elven heritage."

     Kahlain nodded uncertainly, lips drawing to a disappointed twist. They had been traveling for over a month, and on shaded, backroads through the wood. They had changed drivers four times in small, rural villages. They had hired this man in the last town, where she had been nearly glued to Gorion's hip, at his insistence. Before that… before that she couldn’t quite remember. She knew only that Gorion were her guardian now, though something prickled beneath her skin when he told her that he was friends with her parents, and they had placed her in his care for the time being. It was a nagging, a needling, but no matter how far she dug in herself, she could not recall why it felt wrong.

     Gorion had been pleasant company enough, all in all: encouraging, thoughtful, kind. She liked those things. He would tell her stories about her parents at night in hushed tones; stories of valiant warriors, fighting off hoards of monsters that threatened her once-home, the largest kingdom of elves left organized: Evermeet. He told her of the eagle-riders, the Moon Elves who rode giant birds of prey into battle, a beacon of the People. He told her of the beauty the island held, of the stories of the feywild and the place her people first came from. He told her of the great pantheon, the Seldarine, and described in detail each of their roles in the workings of Elven life.

     What he would not tell her was who she really was, who her parents were. Their names, where they were, why they trusted him. Her quick mind cycled through question after question, and though he answered some of them, many remained ambiguous.  
  
     He had told her a few nights now passed something that had put her at ease about the secrecy of her wardship. “Your parents are very, very important people. You are very important, and there are many things you will learn about yourself in the next decade, and then some. All will be known in time. Just know… that your parents loved you very, very much.”

     “Will I ever go home to Evermeet, Gorion?” she had asked, a longing aching in her throat as tears trickled from the corners of her eyes.

     With a kind smile and a pat on her head, he replied only: “Of course, young one. Of course.”

     Now, in the back of the cart, each bump reminding her of the ache in her limbs, she turned her thoughts to what her parents must look like. Gorion never said if they were moon elves, or sun elves, or even wild elves, so she had the privilege of painting the perfect image of who her courageous, loyal parents must be. She imagined them as noble, a lord and lady, dressed in shiny plate armour and bearing beautiful, gleaming swords and round-shields. Her mother, she thought, would look more like her; copper skin mottled with pale blotches—vitiligo, Gorion had called it, but she still preferred ‘moon spots'. She thought her mother would have her eyes too—one silver where the moonspot touched it, and one bright, golden amber. She saw a woman of short stature and stout frame, long mahogany hair, wavy and silken. Beside her, Father: She felt she knew his appearance better, a deep memory, despite the fog that clouded her mind. He was tall, taller than any person she ever saw. He would have beautiful, gleaming white hair, pale blue skin, and black eyes. The eyes were shining, almost glowing, and in her thoughts, he wore a broad, welcoming smile, one hand on his sword hilt and the other wrapped around her mother. Her mother was a sun elf, surely, and her father was a moon elf. She smiled now, at the thought, two of them standing arm in arm, facing monsters her tiny mind could not yet dream of.

     “I want to meet another elf, Gorion. I haven’t… I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen one,” she said slowly, annunciating the way they had practiced. She was learning. “And I want to stop wearing this cloak everywhere! It gets hot.” Her small hands grasp at the collar, shrugging her hood back to reveal sharp, flushed ears.

     “Not here, Kahlain.” Gorion whispered, pulling her hood down with one quick tug. “We will be in a place soon where you can wear whatever you want, I promise you this.”  
Kahlain frowned, playing with her fingers. “Where are we, Gorion? How far is Evermeet from here?”

     “Evermeet is far from here, my dear girl.”

     “Where did we start our journey? How did you get into Evermeet?” With an inquisitive tilt of her head, she watched as Gorion’s face tried to conceal irritation, or perhaps weariness. He was, she had learned, hard to read.

     “We started near Evereska.”

     “The Moon Elves?” She had heard him tell this tale too.

     “Yes, I told you a tenday ago. We met in Everska, where we were guests. Your parents had taken you there," his look was stern, offputting. "I believe our long journey is playing with your mind, Kahlain. You know this.”

     Kahlain bowed her head, her hood shadowing her face. Yes, she did know, she supposed. She would try harder to remember. Remember everything he had told her since… since her parents entrusted her to his care.  
  
     As she let her mind wind idly around thoughts of the People, of moon elves and sun elves and wild elves, the Seldarine, of travel… she began to nod off, sounds and images from her mind lulling her deeper, back into dreams.  
  
     Her head fell down, slumping against the cart, she heard faintly, from within, the lone call of a wolf, tremulous and high, a keening that only lowered when her consciousness left the world behind.

* * *

 


	3. Ch. 3 - White Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gorion sets a secret meeting in the Umar Hills. Kahlain meets two of his associates and discusses her parents. Gorion reveals the nature of his secrecy to his confidant.

** Ch. 3 - W h i t e  L i e s **

** [Ctrl Click + Press Play] [C h a p t e r  T h r e e  S o n g](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4xeWs9BJlbB3DiEdYyuhoE) **

[ ](https://open.spotify.com/track/6zcP5A5Xv6bvCUpwXrswKa?si=T8nUxgCWS06GTGJZ8PkjBg)

* * *

 

 

     The cart had stopped, and gone, hours ago. It was two months into travel, as best as she could reckon. She had seen many villages from beneath her broad hood, but now they were waiting, silently, in the coverage of a sparse--but green--forest. The roads had taken them far from most forest, and instead through many field and hill the past few weeks.

    Gorion was standing hesitantly in the clearing that surrounded the worn path they had been traveling. It was an almost perfect circle, grass and flowers flattened down where resting animals had bedded recently.

     He barely moved: still as a statue, he, as he told her, would wait for the meeting. She would stay in the cover, fronds of fern and scratchy leaves burying her within the depths of the thick foliage. She, with a tug on her hood, tuned into the muffled sounds of the forest.

     There were faint birdcalls, chirping and whistling from high above. She could hear the nearby rustle of foraging, deer perhaps finding their morning meal. The sun had not yet barely peeked out and into the cover, and the shade was wet and cold. She played with the dryness of her lips, pulling and scratching. She felt alive; the world around her was buzzing with wakeful insistence.

     Gorion looked in her direction, nodding slightly, but making a squinted pass behind her before returning to a stone-like vigilance.

     He had not said who, or what, they were meeting, or whether she would be able to come out. The air of secrecy was, in its own way, frightening; she had never felt this unsure of herself.

     That she remembered, anyway.

     She again wondered if her parents really were so important that she remain unseen by nearly everyone. From what she could tell, their presence was maintained only in elven lands. All she had seen were humans; what ill could such a wide selection of people bear her and her family? Were they household names? If they fought for good things, why would she be a target? Something, again, nagged at her. She would give anything to see their faces, to remember… their faces.

      Then—footsteps from the path that bisected the clearing. She leaned forward, arching her head up to try and see who—or what—it was, with no luck. Instead, she could hear one, no two, sets of footsteps, measured and soft.

     Gorion must have heard it too, for he swiveled, staring at the bend in the road a handful of yards away.

     “Hail, travelers—I would ask you how many stars shine when the music is played.”

     The footsteps stopped. She heard faint whispering back and forth.

     “Only under a night of four stars and the sickled moon, friend.”

     Gorion’s worn face cracked into a small smile. The footsteps rounded the bend, and two people came into view, smiles also visible on their faces, warm and trusting.

     The one in front was a woman; she had golden-red hair, braided and beaded, olive skin, and bright blue eyes. Two small ear tips pricked out from the heavy bundle of locks. The second was a man, his face a deeper olive, a small scar running down his cheek, with short cropped brown hair and black eyes. He, too, had small-tipped ears, though they were somewhat curved, and a shy bit longer than the woman’s.

     They were half-elves, Kahlain thought with a shock of longing. Something in her fought to remain unseen; she desperately wanted to run up and hug them in greeting. She shook off the feeling, however, and remained still.

     Both were dressed in modest leather armours, though the man carried a sword and shield, and the woman just a spear. They looked weather-worn, their gear light, but faded. As they came up to Gorion, they both embraced him affectionately, clapping him on the shoulder.

     “What a-a strange s-s-spot to meet in, f-frie.. friend.” The man’s stutter cut his sentence into jittery pieces, but he spoke warmly. “Th-th… The Umar h-hills aren’t a t-t-typi… typical m-meeting place f-for an-an-anyone.”

     “Yes, Khalid, I agree.” The woman was more gruff, serious, and her welcoming manner had changed to unease. “Why did you call on us, Gorion? And here, of all places. You are far from the Sword Coast. If it’s that damned dragon again, I—”

     Gorion shook his head, waving a hand. “No such worry.” He regarded them with a discerning eye, “As to my presence here, one could say the same, Jaheira. I trust your last endeavours were successful?”

     Jaheira’s blue eyes gleamed in the shade, an amused smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Well, it is fair to say there are fewer Zhents occupying the underbelly of Athlatka.” There was humour in her voice, musical. It was a haunting sound to Kahlain, a reminder of something now out of her reach.

     “Always a fine thing to hear, my friends. Now… if you would, please, follow me off the trail for a moment. I’ve something to discuss with you.”

     The two half-elves passed a look between them, but both nodded in turn as Gorion began to walk towards her. He lifted his staff into the air and whispered something, and with a glimmering spark, a veil errupted, warping the area as it passed, enveloping them in a burst of energy. It tingled against Kahlain’s skin, but she still, as instructed, did not move. She watched however, as the encasement of the spell ended several paces in every direction, a small spherical enclosure now generated around the four of them.

     He stopped on the edge of the forest line and said without looking at her, “You may come out now, Kahlain.”

     Though she was curious, merrily curious, at the arrival of Gorion’s friends, she still anxiously rose from the brush, an uncertain fear growing in her chest. She felt jittery, legs trembling.

     What if something was wrong?

     What could be wrong?

     Both Jaheira and Khalid, who had been closely behind Gorion, regarded her emergence with interest, if not with a second of hesitancy.

     “Meet Kahlain,” he said, nodding to her reassuringly. “Kahlain is now under my protection. She is… born from extreme circumstances.” Gorion’s words were, as always, careful, but he gave a knowing look to both his friends.

     Kahlain couldn’t contain herself anymore. In slow, halting common tongue, she asked: “Do you know my parents too? Are they alright?”

     Jaheira and Khalid glanced at one another, locking eyes, before turning to Gorion. He waved a hand dismissively.

     “Ah, child, they do not know your parents as I did, I’m afraid. Jaheira and Khalid have been busy on their own adventures.”

     Kahlain frowned, but nodded. She had wished… it did not matter, but she had wished to know more about her mother, and her father.

     “What manner of… adventure is this, Gorion?” The half-elf seemed disturbed, her eyes narrowing at Kahlain’s hopeful stare.

     “A task Elminster and I have been charged with. Of great importance.” The emphasis on the last line brought Khalid’s head upward with a jerk, an involuntary twitch. Jaheira switched weight between resting feet, grinding her spear into the ground further.

     “I… I see. Well. Hello, Kahlain. I am Jaheira. This is my husband, Khalid. I am sorry that I have no information on you or your circumstance. I would tell you of your parents if I could.” She glanced again at Gorion, who said nothing. He watched her with cautious, grim lines deepening on his forehead, a thin-lipped smile echoing the sentiment.

     “It’s… I understand.” Kahlain said. It was a silly thought to begin with; even if they were important, how would they know who she, or her parents, were?

     “H-hello, Kahl…K-kahlain. A pl-p… a pl-pleasure to m-meet you.” Khalid’s smile was consoling, and in turn made Kahlain smile.

     “Gorion, what is it that you and the girl need?” Jaheira asked, swiftly turning her attention back to him.

     “Walk with me, Jaheira. Khalid, if you would mind Kahlain, I would appreciate it.”

     “Of c-course.” Khalid nodded and again, smiled at Kahlain.

     As the two walked off to the other end of the meadow, the sphere washing over her and khalid as it followed Gorion, Kahlain settled back down, cross-legged. Khalid followed suit, and they sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

     Eyeing Gorion, Kahlain couldn’t contain her curiousity anymore. “Why did he ask you about music?”

     Khalid laughed, scratching at his thick hairline. “It is a g-greeting from one Har… Harper to another.”

     “What’s a harper? Do you play music for people?” Kahlain watched as his face shifted between amusement and thoughtfulness, as though he were searching for the best answer.

     After a moment, he nodded and began to explain. “Ha-harpers are th-those who s-seh… those who serve the Realms under th-the n-n-name of man-many gods and g-goddesses. They ha-h… they have sworn to p-protect the Realms fr-from d-darker d-deities.”

     Kahlain let this sit in her mind, turning it over. “Are the darker deities the ones threatening my parents?”

     Khalid cocked his head, mouth slightly open. “I-I’m afraid I d-don’t kn-know who your p-pa-parents are. You c-can, t-t-te… tell me about them if... if you want. It m-might help me r-remember if I do kn-know.”

     Kahlain smiled and swallowed hard; she wasn’t sure how to begin. In slow common, she began. “I… I don’t remember how, but they entrusted me to Gorion. They’re elves from Evermeet! But Gorion said that we met in Evereska… I don’t know how we got there. He won’t tell me why, but he says that I’m important. That my parents are important in Evermeet. That they… gave me to him, because it was dangerous. I think they’re warriors! They must be. I can’t remember what they… look like… But I think I know, I think I can remember. My mom is a sun elf, and she looks like me, and my dad is a moon elf. He’s really tall, and they’re fighting for Evermeet. They must be heroes.”

     Concern masked Khalid’s soft features. “I-I see.” He inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. “W-w-well it s-s-sounds like you-y-your parents w-want the b-b-best for you.”

     “So you don’t know them?” She sat up straighter, clinging on to a sharp crest of hope that crept inside her chest.

     “N-n-no, n-not that I am aware.” He gave her a sad smile. “B-but I’m sh-sure Gorion will tell you abou... about them.”

     “He’s only said so much,” she said, dropping her eyes to the flattened grass. “They must be in trouble.”

     “M-maybe so.”

 

 

     “What manner of mission is it to harbour a child from the deep forests, Gorion?” Jaheira stole a look back at Khalid, who was talking in soft tones to the girl.

     “Jaheira, what I’m about to tell you is of utmost secrecy.”

     Jaheira eyed the sphere that encircled them—a spell meant to hide words spoken between people. She nodded grimly.

     “That girl is from Durmista. She was a… member of a stray clan of Lythari, under protection of Aulliona, the Rebel Queen.”

     Jaheira nodded, tugging at one ear. Rings jangled from her earlobe. “I have heard words of her struggle.”

     “Yes. Though their struggles have naught to do with the girl.”

     “Lythari, you said? I’ve encountered maybe one before. She looks… other.”

     “The pack under the care of Aulliona is… cursed. They bear a dark gift, which has bore them many enemies, even amongst their kin. Their circumstance is troubling enough, but the child… she bears an even grimmer secret.”

     “Silvershadows are, from my memory, a good folk—it is why ordinary lycanthropes seek their destruction. They are supposedly peaceful. What makes her people different, that they would be cast out by their kin and seeking asylum under a… chaotic Queen?”

     “Aulliona may not serve Druidry in the manner you do, but she wishes only the best for her people, Jaheira. Her war is her purpose. Regardless, I can see why she would… harbour the Lythari as she does. There is a bloodcurse on the pack; they once rose arms against their original pack. It started as an argument over their lands; they wanted to keep their territory, the Kahmár, but humans and other folk were beginning to press their territory. A select few, including the heir to the clanship, rose up and attacked several settlements. Their packmother waged against them—in the end, the leader sacrificed herself that she may evoke a curse on her stray kin. They take the shape of great, black wolves, and are prone to madness, cannibalism, and a heightened call of the wild.”

     “That is a formidable curse, but I sense there is more to it.”

     “Yes. They eventually killed off the original pack, and began to breed amongst themselves, producing more cursed. Quickly, however, they were forced out of the Borderwood by a clan of Wolfweres the original pack had once held at bay. Outnumbered, they fled. Those who survived eventually made it to Tethir, to Durmista. Aulliona took them in, I believe, as beserkers for her cause. It is an uneasy alliance, I fear. Kahlain is several generations down from the original curse, but it only grows stronger with time, it seems. I worry for that alone.”

     Jaheira shifted again, looking over her shoulder. “And what else troubles you? What reason would you and Elminster conspire to take but one child from them? Are you ending the curse?”

     “The curse is permanent, I’m afraid. It will only end when the last of their line dies. But that is not the true concern—indeed, we would not have meddled in their affairs if there weren’t a more terrible danger. The child… She is of the bhaalspawn predicted to walk Toril.”

     Jaheira’s eyes widened, pupils dilating. “No.”

     “The time has come, as Alaundo had prophesized. She bears the blood of the Dead God, as well as that of the curse. Even but one of those would be a threat to the Realms, but… combined, I fear she may rise as the ideal vessel for Bhaal to resurrect himself with, and revive the ghosts of his former faith.”

     “How did you and Elminster come across this?” she asked, between clenched teeth.

    “Elminster found out foremost—his interest in peace talks between the Rebel Queen and Suldanessellar was at a peak. Members of Weldeath’s lythari grow angry, but have not made an alliance with Ellesime yet—it is, as you may guess, far from their base nature to wish for war, but circumstances weigh on the side of caution. In any case… per request of Ellesime, he looked into the Rebel Queen’s territories, their number, their weapons, the pack recently acquired… behind all that, he discovered the dark secret they hid. The current Packmaster, Reth’bennahar, had been raising the child in the stead of her true mother. They executed the mother, Elen’sila, after birth, for they knew of her treason—madness had taken her and she had become… enamoured with an avatar of Bhaal. And his ideals. They raised the girl regardless. Some good remains in their hearts… they could not kill a babe. But they knew what she was. I suspect Reth’bennahar was going to elevate her to the new Packmother when she came of age, awash with ideas of becoming a sovereign nation under her protection, because of her… divinity. I doubt even Aulliona could defy the girl, had she come of age.” Gorion sighed wearily, stroking his temple. “Reason still sways with Aulliona, for all her faults. She gave me the girl, but it is both a relief and a problem… No doubt, her exposure to the world will cause notice, and her safety threatened.”

     “If she is tainted twice-over, would it not be better to kill her now?” Jaheira hissed.

     “I cannot. The girl is innocent; she will not die for her mother’s crimes. And… and if guided, she may become the tool we need to stop Bhaal’s return. There is no way to stop her from growing into what she is; I only hope that with a gentle hand—”

     “Gentle will not cut it, Gorion! For a wise man, you are a fool if you think you can recover a soul from two darknesses without succumbing to it, one way or another!”

     His gaunt face, tired eyes, stared into Jaheira’s with solemn, unwavering commitment. “Elminster and I have already acted upon our initial plan. There is no turning back.”

     “Then a fool you are, Gorion. A tired, old fool.” She spit on the ground and walked slowly back to Khalid’s side, where she stood eyeing Kahlain darkly.

     Gorion stood, leaning on his staff. He closed his eyes, feeling the stray breeze push at his back.

     He remembered Elen’sila to this day, from before. Always from before. Two toned eyes, a merry laugh, the great black wolf bounding through the grass at his side. He would never let that go.

     Even after her death, he could not let her go.

* * *

 

 

Elen'sila: roughly translated into "Shining Star"


	4. Ch. 4 - Dreams of Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kahlain sees her mother, and receives a warning--as well as an invitation.

**Ch. 4 – D r e a m s  o f  W h i s p e r s**

**[[Ctrl Click + Press Play] C h a p t e r  F o u r  S o n g](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1N52oyMRRZQ1nMdUyIbg0L) **

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     The darkness seeped into the very ground itself—the cavern echoed with drops of water and the deep hum of wind from above.

     Kahlain looked around, uncertain.

     She was alone.

     The ebb of water from further in, a small stream perhaps, drew her deeper down the tunnel.

     _It isn’t right,_ she thought. Looking around, her sight failed her; there was no discrimination between shape and shadow. The dark was impenetrable, and where once her vision would’ve painted the black in shades of grey, illuminating the unknown, she found herself in a shroud that refused to shape itself to her whim.

     Not long into her careful descent, the clatter of small rocks snapped her head upward.

     “Tul a, ai daoine.”

     “Mother?” The swirling image of her mother began to appear in the darkness ahead, shifting and inconsistent, the edges of her form being pulled by reality itself. Her hair was long and plaited, her dress a simple robe of brown with open sleeves.

     “Uma, amin’lean.”

     Her heart raced. Her mother extended a hand out to her, features veiled, but a sadness emanated from her silence.

     “Where are we?” Kahlain whispered, her hands curling into tense knots.

     “This is a place where we can be together, daoine. We are both welcome here,” she looked around, her rich hair catching shine though no light was there. She took a step backwards. “This is a place meant for your inner self.”

     “I don’t know what that means,” Kahlain took a step forward, trembling slightly.

     “It means that you were given a secret, and this secret must be kept,” Her mother looked down, “For now. I will lead you back to how you are, Kahlain. You are the the dhaer’deth. It is a promise.”

     Kahlain could not place the words, but the meaning felt heavy, a sinking feeling in her legs and arms.

     “Two shapes you had—one was taken. Three shapes you will claim. Find the first forgotten. When you reach inside and embrace what you were, you will see the beginning of what is to come next. You have lost your given path, in more ways than one.”

     Kahlain’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt her hair prickle on her neck, arms and legs. The sensation grew, and soon her skin was crawling, cold, sharp.

     With a whimper, she fell to her knees and clawed into the stone, the scratches pulling her nails up. With a troubled breath, she grunted and flung an arm out towards her mother.

     When no hand grasp hers, she looked up, teeth clenched, and strained the words through her tightening throat: “Help me!”

     Her mother took a step backwards. A smile played on her lips. “I am.”

     With a strangled scream, Kahlain’s body twisted, and she felt her bones and muscles cracking, breaking down, recreating themselves.

     With one last pained grunt, she met her mother’s eyes.

     They were blue and brown, dark and cold.

     “Follow your pain.” Where her mother was, a great black wolf stood, coated in wet ichor from mouth to claw. The wolf slowly began to dissolve, leaving only inky footprints that bled into the shadows, melting away.

     Kahlain was silent now, and her broken body fell apart. Her mind seized and blanked, and the world shattered in a flash of white.

 

 

     Kahlain shot upwards from her small bundle of blankets. Her breath was labored, and she wrapped a hand around her throat, rubbing at the lingering pain.

     The camp was quiet; Jaheira was awake, staring into the fire. Khalid was dozing next to her, back propped against a tree.

    Gorion was nowhere to be found.

     Jaheira noticed Kahlain’s movement and tilted her head to the side, eyes searching her.

     “What is it, girl?” the voice lacked the warmth Gorion’s had, and her manner exuded tension.

     “Where is,” she was panting, sweating, and wiped stray beads off her head. “Where is Gorion, Jaheria?”

     The half-elf turned back to the fire, grunting. “He is busy elsewhere.”

     Kahlain brought her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. The mountain forest was quiet. Their travel had brought them up into what Gorion had told her were the Cloudpeaks. In the past weeks, he had disappeared from time to time, and she was to trust Jaheira and Khalid while he was away.

     She had taken to Khalid, whose manner was always polite and reassuring. It was a kindness of a different vein than Gorion’s, but welcomed all the same. Jaheira had remained distant, but vigilant, always scouting an area well before they settled for camp.

     Walking on foot had produced a soreness in Kahlain’s legs, and her feet itched to be bare; she had grown blisters in their hike upwards. Gorion insisted she remain in the purchased leathers he had bought her from a previous settlement.

 _And this damned hood,_ she thought to herself. Her damp scalp itched against the scratch of the fabric.

     “Jaheira, do you know… much of the Cloudpeaks?” Kahlain knew how to speak common now, but occasionally she felt the alien words seethe under her use, her tongue not wanting to form them.

     Not that she could remember any other way to speak. Elvish words that Gorion said brought surges of familiarity, but he had to teach them to her all the same.

     She felt displaced inside, clutching at phantoms of memory that seemed to fade further with time.

     “Of course I do. What would you know?”

     Kahlain swallowed hard at the ice in Jaheira’s voice. “Is it far from where Gorion is taking me?”

     “Yes.”

     “When will we reach the top?”

     “Depends.” Jaheira’s short worded answers only brought Kahlain’s inner voice to silence her questions. She resigned herself to asking Khalid in the morning.

     Laying back down, she watched the sparks of the fire crackle up into the clear sky. Fatigue grabbed hold of her mind and eyes, and she watched as the bright orange of fire slowly began to fade away.

     Somewhere down below, a wolf began a slow, sorrowful howl.

* * *

 

 

Tul a, ai daoine. - roughly translated as "Come, little starlight."

Uma, amin'lean. - roughly translated as "Yes, my daughter."

daer'deth - roughly translated as "eternal or enduring dark"

 

*sources used for elven are two sites, and I combined them for a version of elven that is more Forgotten Realms appropriate.

[A Treatise on Espuar](http://freepdfhosting.com/5f6a747504.pdf)

[The Tel'Quessir Translator](https://lingojam.com/TheTelQuessirOnlineTranslator)


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